


Fall, Fall, Fall.

by Suzie Shooter Archive (Suzie_Shooter)



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Introspection, Love Confessions, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 07:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11846496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie%20Shooter%20Archive
Summary: Written for a prompt of "Aziraphale ponders the Fall (Man's, Crowley's, and his own potential) much to Crowley's horror. Crowley persuades him to abandon the subject."(First posted on LJ, 20th August 2007. Lyrics from 'Fall, Fall, Fall' by Razorlight. Hey, it was ten years ago, songfic was a thing.)





	Fall, Fall, Fall.

_Midnight’s calling, Are you close behind?_

Crowley slipped silently in through the door to the bookshop. By rights, the bell should have announced his presence with a merry little tinkle, but he'd long ago terrified it into silence where he was concerned. Thus, the scruffy figure slipping a first edition under its raincoat was wholly unaware of his presence until a hand descended on its shoulder. Painfully. 

The man swung round, spouting simultaneous excuses and obscenities, but Crowley just slipped his sunglasses down a little way and glared. Taking in the cold, yellow-eyed stare the man dropped the book into the outstretched hand without another word and edged, terrified, to the door, trying not to turn his back on him.

_I’m just bad, I can’t help it, But I try to be good._

Crowley tossed the book casually onto the counter. He generally approved of shoplifters, in an abstract sort of way. But not in here. He wondered where Aziraphale was, that he was apparently oblivious to the goings on in his shop.

He found him in the back room, leaning back on the patched leather sofa, eyes closed, listening to a melancholy music track that Crowley didn't recognise. He did register, however, that it was about 100 years more recent than anything else the angel owned.

"Aziraphale?" 

The figure on the couch opened his eyes, and Crowley was startled to see they were brimming with unshed tears.

"What's wrong?"

The angel sniffed delicately and straightened up rather self-consciously. "Oh - just this song. Someone left the tape in the shop and - well it makes me think - uncomfortable thoughts."

"Well, don't listen to it then." Crowley picked up the box and eyed the track name suspiciously. _Fall, Fall, Fall._ "Hmph."

"I'm sorry Crowley, just ignore me." 

_'Cause people make you lonely, People make you lonely sometime._

Crowley frowned. Aziraphale in a pensive mood worried him. He produced an alarming cheerful grin and marched across the room. "Come on. You need fresh air. And lunch. Definitely lunch. Come on, I'll even buy, where's your coat?"

Aziraphale smiled wanly. "Where do you think it will all end?"

Crowley stopped his pacing and looked surprised. "Well with both of us horribly drunk, if we're lucky."

"Not that. This. All this." Aziraphale spread his arms wide in a vague gesture encompassing everything. "Humanity. Where does it end? In Redemption? And whose decision is that? And whose fault was it in the first place?"

Crowley hissed slightly, unsure where this was going. There had, after all, been the small matter of some fruit...

Aziraphale seemed to realise his faux pas and hurriedly continued. "Heaven's, I mean. Heaven turned them out of Eden. Heaven makes the rules. It was Heaven's decision that they need to be redeemed in the first place. Original Sin. Our idea."

Crowley muttered something scathing about no-one coming up with any really original sins these days, but Aziraphale wasn't listening.

_Trees without leaves and notes that don’t ring, Wine left to rot and a voice that can’t sing_

He looked up at Crowley then, and said, more quietly, "Did it hurt?"

Crowley smirked. "What? When I fell from heaven? I didn't realise you were one for cheap chat up lines, angel." He watched with interest and some amusement as Aziraphale blushed. 

Aziraphale looked as if he was trying to find difficult words. "How do you - know? If you're Falling? How did it happen?" he asked, finally.

Crowley put his head on one side, considering. "What's brought this on?" he asked, surprisingly gently. Aziraphale looked away, until Crowley caught one of his hands in his.

"It was - a matter of allegiance," Crowley said, finally. "To the wrong people. They don't like being questioned, Up There. And I was always too inquisitive for my own good. Why shouldn't we know the secrets of the universe? Why shouldn't everyone?"

"Some things aren't meant to be known. Not everyone is ready for the truth." said Aziraphale, quietly. "It's ineffable." 

Crowley took hold of his other hand as well. "And you believe that, and that's why you're an angel. And always will be."

"But if you could fall just through supporting the wrong people - how much worse would the penalty be for loving the wrong person?" Aziraphale asked, wretchedly.

_And hours of making love in silence, And a light that just won’t shine in the darkness._

Crowley spun abruptly, wrenched the tape from the machine and stuck it in his pocket. "This is going in the car," he said grimly. "And it's not coming out until the most disturbing thing it plays is Razorlight's Crazy Little Thing Called Love."

"Crowley. Tell me. Honestly."

"Love? Oh, yes, love's our biggest recruiter," cried Crowley, somewhat manically. "Lying, cheating, murdering, yep, the halls of Hell are stacked with people who Fell for love." 

Aziraphale looked stricken, and Crowley laughed quietly. "However, I don't think moping in darkened rooms to maudlin soft rock counts as the first step on the road to irredeemable evil. If it did, Hell would be stuffed full of teenagers."

"But - "

"No buts. I told you. It's not who you love. It's what you do because of it. Trust me, you're not in danger of Falling, Aziraphale. You're too sickeningly nice."

Aziraphale blinked. 

"And what if, for the sake of argument, one was to fall in love with a demon?" he asked, staring intently at a knothole in the floorboards.

It was Crowley's turn to blink. 

"Oh. _Oh._ "

There was a pause. 

Aziraphale shuffled his feet uncomfortably, and wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

Crowley took pity on him. "So. Lunch?" he asked, brightly.

"What? Well, yes. I mean - if you want to?"

Crowley grinned, wickedly. "Oh, I think so, most definitely. You see, after that little - revelation - I intend on kissing you quite thoroughly later. And I thought you might like a drink first."

Aziraphale followed him to the door, slightly dazed. "Yes," he murmured to himself. "I think I should like that."

\--


End file.
